


Temperance

by lesbrarians



Category: Kingdom Hearts (Video Games)
Genre: Alcohol, Crack, M/M, implied sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:00:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27820384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbrarians/pseuds/lesbrarians
Summary: A drunken Luxord visits Xaldin late at night.
Relationships: Demyx/Xigbar (Kingdom Hearts), Luxord/Xaldin (Kingdom Hearts)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Temperance

**Author's Note:**

> Old fic circa 2010, uploaded by request!

Xaldin stood alone in the darkened kitchen of the Castle That Never Was, the door to the fridge flung open as he contemplated what to eat. It was just after midnight, and he found himself plagued by what was colloquially known as, appropriately enough, the "midnight munchies." He scanned the contents of the fridge, yet failed to find anything that satisfied his cravings, and what did appeal to him was already staked out by other Organization members. He briefly considered taking one of the bologna and lettuce sandwiches clearly marked "VI" but decided that it wasn't worth the headache he was sure to receive once Zexion noticed one of his own midnight snacks missing. He grunted and went to shut the fridge door, figuring that he could at least put on a pot of coffee, but paused at the sound of footsteps. He cocked his head, listening intently to figure out who else was roaming the halls at this time of night.

"Ow, what the… This innit the loo…"

Xaldin turned around at the voice. In the light of the refrigerator, he could just make out the form of the Nobody who had just stumbled into the kitchen and was staring at the sink, his back turned to him.

"Luxord?"

The figure started and turned around, confirming Xaldin's guess. The blond looked slightly more disheveled than usual, his hair sticking up at odd angles and his coat halfway unzipped. His face lit up when he saw the room's previous occupant that he had just barged in on.

"Xaldeeeeen!" he slurred, stumbling over to join him.

Xaldin raised an eyebrow. "Are you drunk?"

"Hold meeeee." Luxord all but flung his arms around the larger man, causing Xaldin to stagger back, supporting the Gambler's weight. He sniffed the air surreptitiously, catching a whiff of rum. 

"I think you're drunk."

"I – huhuhu – I love you." Luxord looked up at him through heavy-lidded eyes, grinning unrestrainedly. Well, if he wasn't already convinced, that was the clincher.

"You're drunk," Xaldin answered himself flatly. He looked around him desperately for backup, but found none. Luxord was a touchy-feely, affectionate drunk, apparently. Maybe a little too much so, seeing as how he had draped himself across Xaldin's frame, and no amount of subtle nudging could get him to budge. Xaldin deduced that he was completely smashed, and that was saying something, as the man could ordinarily hold his liquor quite well. He got tipsy, yes. Absolutely wasted, not so often.

"I meannit." Luxord hiccupped, swaying on the spot, his usual refined British charm gone.

"Right." Xaldin assessed the situation at hand. If he recalled correctly, Number X's room was three floors up and one tower over. There was no way he was about to get him up there, not in this state. And judging by the way Luxord was tripping over his own two feet, he wasn't fit for travel by the Dark Corridors. He'd probably vomit. Not pleasant. Xaldin sighed and wrapped an arm around the blond, tugging him along. He had half a mind to leave him to fend for himself, but his better judgment told him that he wasn't quite sure he'd like to see the aftermath the following morning.

Luxord trailed along without protest, one arm slung sloppily around Xaldin's neck. "Yer m'best mate, you know that?" he said drunkenly.

"I know, Luxord." Xaldin's voice was impassive.

"M'so lucky to have you."

"I know, Luxord."

"I love you."

"You said that already, Luxord."

"Oh." He paused to wet his lips and think about what Xaldin just said. "S'true."

"… I know, Luxord."

\------------------------

Ten minutes later, and the two of them were only just rounding the corner near Number II's room. Luxord kept getting sidetracked and stopping, forcing Xaldin to tug him along, which made their pace agonizingly slow.

"If you stop one more time," Xaldin warned through gritted teeth, his patience growing thin, "I'm carrying you the rest of the way, regardless of what you have to say about it."

Luxord merely hummed noncommittally in reply. The Lancer couldn't tell if it was a noise of dissent or agreement and quite frankly, he didn't care.

But at least they were making progress; his chambers were in the next corridor after their current one. Thankful for something to look at other than the white walls of the hallways, Xaldin eyed the door to Xigbar's room, which was ajar. Curious. He couldn't help but glance inside as they passed but immediately averted his eyes, fervently wishing that he hadn't given into the temptation. With a shudder of distaste, he summoned up a gust of wind behind him to slam the door shut, only to have it be yanked open again.

"What was that for?" an irate Xigbar demanded, poking his head out from behind the door and scowling.

"Despite your lack of modesty, I and the rest of the castle would really rather not be exposed to your sexual exploits," Xaldin said icily, looking over his shoulder at the Freeshooter.

Xigbar smirked. "You're just jealous that you're not getting any," he replied, a touch of smugness in his voice. Demyx peeped out from behind him and waved cheerily at Xaldin, who was still trying to mentally scrub the scene he had just been exposed to from his retinas.

"What's wrong with him?" Demyx asked, nodding at Luxord and resting his chin on Xigbar's shoulder. Xigbar seemed to notice the drunken Nobody for the first time and cocked an inquiring eyebrow as well. The Gambler in question wasn't paying any attention whatsoever to the conversation, for he had just discovered the zipper of his coat and become mesmerized by it.

"Number X apparently had a bit too much to drink tonight," Xaldin said dryly, hefting Luxord's weight, for he was still leaning heavily against him.

Luxord chose that moment to start singing under his breath, "Beer, beer, we want more beer, all the lads are cheerin', 'Get the fuckin' beer in.' Beer, beer, we want more beer…" He laid his head on Xaldin's shoulder, still singing drunkenly, although it degenerated into more of a mumble than an actual song. Xaldin rolled his eyes at the display, cursing his fate.

"Gooood luck with that," Xigbar snickered. "C'mon, Dem." The two vanished into his room once more, mercifully shutting the door behind them this time, and abandoned Xaldin to deal with Luxord on his own. The Lancer glared down at his companion, who returned the glower with a beatific smile.

Well, Xaldin thought with a sigh. At least Luxord was a happy drunk. Better him than Number VIII, at any rate. Thank Kingdom Hearts for small favors – Axel was combustible when drunk. In more than one way. He was living proof that fire and alcohol do not mix. But that didn't change the fact that this was not how he wanted to spend his night, babysitting one of the neophytes, who was currently too drunk to walk in a straight line.

"Come on," he grunted and yanked Luxord to keep moving again. The Gambler tripped forward at the motion, stumbling over his own two feet, but remained rooted to the spot and refused to budge. He mumbled something incoherent and, thoroughly fed-up, Xaldin grabbed him and slung him over his shoulder. "I warned you," he said shortly and began walking briskly again.

"The ceiling's… moving…" Luxord muttered from his position on Xaldin's shoulder, where he hung like a rag doll; an inebriated rag doll who was attempting to touch what he believed was the ceiling, which was actually the floor.

Xaldin didn't dignify him with a reply, instead choosing to fumble with the door to his room and dump Luxord unceremoniously on the floor once they made it inside. "Stay put while I get you a drink."

"Rum?" Luxord raised his head off the floor and looked up at Xaldin, his eyes unfocused. "I like rum…"

"Water, jackass." Xaldin shook his head disgustedly and left to fetch a glass of water from the bathroom, hoping that the man wouldn't do anything foolish while he was gone. When he returned two minutes later, he found that Luxord had shed his coat and clambered up on his bed. He was reclining against the pillows and looking intently at his hands, a frown clearly visible.

Xaldin paused before taking the bait. "… Luxord, what are you doing?"

"Shhh!" the Gambler commanded, closing his eyes in concentration. He opened them again and looked hopefully at his hands but slumped over when he saw that they were still empty. Xaldin raised an eyebrow and began to comment on his odd behavior but shut his mouth promptly when Luxord clarified it for him.

"Can't summon m'cards," he slurred, leaning dangerously off the bed and struggling in vain to reach his discarded coat. Unfortunately, coordination wasn't particularly one of his strong points in his drunken stupor, and he toppled off the bed, landing on the floor in a disheveled heap. Xaldin was torn between being amused and being annoyed. Luxord, on the other hand, didn't seem to care in the slightest. He was happy with the fact that he managed to locate his deck of cards after rooting around in his coat pocket.

"This is Temperance," he informed Xaldin, showing him the fancy blue-purple cards unnecessarily.

"A practice which you'd do well to exercise," Xaldin replied curtly and took Luxord by the arm, hauling him to his feet and sitting him back down on the bed. "Now drink this." He handed Luxord the glass of water, eyeing him to make sure that he drank it all, which he did dutifully. Folding his arms, Xaldin leaned against the wall and watched as Luxord finished drinking and turned the cup upside down to make sure there was no water left in it. Satisfied, the blond gingerly placed the glass on Xaldin's bedside table and sat there, swaying back and forth as he hummed some aimless tune to himself and fiddled with his cards.

Xaldin sighed and lifted his eyes heavenward. "Get some sleep, Luxord," he said, plucking the cards from his hands. The Gambler protested, reaching in vain for his cards, and Xaldin was reminded of the phrase "taking candy from a baby."

"No," he scolded, feeling somewhat foolish, and spelled it out for him. "You need sleep to sober up. Only time can cure this." He pressed down on Luxord's chest to force him to lie down.

One could practically see the light bulb, dim as it may be, go off over Luxord's head even as he obediently settled down onto the bed.

"Time…" An inebriated smile lit up his face.

Xaldin, realizing his mistake, was quick to squash any ideas that may have entered his head. "Don't even think about it," he warned. He didn't even want to know what disastrous effects would result from a wasted Gambler of Fate messing about with time.

"But-"

"Shut up and go to bed." Xaldin flicked the lights off with a note of finality and turned his attention to a more troubling problem: what on earth was he going to do for the remainder of the night with Luxord occupying his bed? He supposed that he could always spend it in one of the chairs in the corner of his room, but –

"It's dark."

"Yes, that's what happens when the lights go out."

"Why… Why are the lights out?" In the dim illumination of the moonlight that shone through his window, Xaldin could just make out the shadowy form of Luxord sitting up in bed, groping in the darkness for… something. Presumably a light.

"Because it's bedtime." Xaldin shook his head; he felt as if he were speaking to a child.

"Oh."

In the ensuing silence, Xaldin decided that sleeping in the chair would be safest and swiftly dragged it within range of the bed, just in case. Luxord had proved himself to be unpredictable when drunk. Knowing his luck, he would probably need to throw up in the middle of the night or something equally undesirable, and Xaldin was hell-bent on keeping his room relatively sanitary.

"…Xaldin?"

"Yes, Luxord?" At this point, he'd stopped caring and just answered resignedly.

"I love you."

Xaldin snorted aloud involuntarily. What the hell. He decided to humor him. It wasn't likely the man would remember anything when he woke up in the morning, and at least it made for a nice piece of blackmail, should the need ever arise. "I love you too," he replied in amusement.

Luxord hiccupped. "You mean it?"

"Sure. Why not."

"Good."

Xaldin could practically hear the smile in his voice in the darkness and grinned ruefully. As exasperating as the whole ordeal was, he couldn't deny that it was entertaining. Lost in his thoughts, he jumped when he felt Luxord's hand brush against his. The blond had rolled over on his side, a valiant task considering how intoxicated he was, and reached out for Xaldin's hand to grasp it. The larger Nobody squeezed it once tightly before dropping it. "Sleep," he said gruffly, and Luxord turned over again, a sappy smile on his face.

Within moments, Xaldin could hear the Brit breathing deeply and slowly, a sure sign that he'd finally passed out. He shook his head in amazement. What a night. He stretched out in his chair and let his eyes close. It wasn't so bad, he reasoned in those last few moments before slipping into oblivion. He'd had many a night's practice of sleeping while sitting up in his past life as an Apprentice, on those long nights when he and Aeleus alternated shifts so the other could sleep, and later, when the six of them began their research on the human heart and days stretched into nights without end. 

\------------------------

When Luxord regained consciousness nine hours later, all he could think about was that there was a fleet of Berserker Nobodies going on a rampage inside his skull. He moaned pitifully and buried his head under his pillow. A stray thought wormed its way into his head and niggled at him, and it gradually dawned on him that this wasn't his pillow, or his bed, for that matter. He lifted up the pillow to peer groggily at the rest of the room and quickly scrunched his eyes shut again when he saw Xaldin.

"Oh, mother of…" he croaked hoarsely. "What the bloody hell happened last night…?" Everything from sometime after his fifth drink to the present was black. He didn't even want to think about what must have occurred between then and now for him to be in this present situation.

"You tell me." Xaldin's wry voice filtered through the pillow, which Luxord kept firmly clamped over his head as if it could erase the previous night from existence. "All I know is that you stumbled into the kitchen at half past twelve, drunk out of your mind, and foisted yourself on me."

"Plmmf tmem me idinfmt," Luxord mumbled into the pillow, which muffled his words.

"…What?" The next thing Luxord knew, Xaldin was ripping the pillow out of his hands. He protested, covering his face to block the morning light that was making his eyes water and his head throb.

"I said, please tell me I didn't…" He grimaced, cursing himself internally, and fervently prayed to the gods of fate that he hadn't been too loose-lipped.

"Well," Xaldin began drolly – and if Luxord didn't know any better, he'd say that the Lancer was enjoying this – "Asides from professing your undying love for me repeatedly, you were relatively tame. Nothing too serious, if you don't count me having to haul your drunk ass down the hall when you decided to stop walking, and falling off the bed."

Luxord groaned and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. He didn't know which was worse: the fact that he'd made a complete and utter fool of himself or the fact that Xaldin was so entertained by his drunken confession. He was too hungover for this. He needed complete silence to recuperate. Silence, a nap, and perhaps a large bowl of tortellini and meat sauce. "Right. Thanks. I'll be leaving now." He crawled out of Xaldin's bed and immediately wished he hadn't. Vertigo hit him like a brick, and he faltered, nausea gripping him.

Xaldin was entirely unsympathetic towards him, simply leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and watching Luxord flounder as he scooped up his coat from the floor. It took him three tries to put it on but he finally succeeded, shrugging into the black coat. It was beginning to look like he would escape relatively unscathed, but he knew it was too good to be true – just as he was about to turn the doorknob and flee, Xaldin spoke up again.

"Oh, and Luxord?"

Luxord paused. "Mmn?"

"For future reference, the kitchen sink is not a urinal."


End file.
